the section house, and slink stealthily to the very spot where his
darling's tiny garments had been found, and there amid heart-rending
shrieks, which we in our bunk house could plainly hear above the weird
moanings of the winter storms, he would dig with his bare hands deep
into the cruel snow, searching for his lost baby--his own little Helen.

[Illustration: He would dig with his bare hands deep into the cruel
snow, searching for his lost baby--his own little Helen.]

As Spring approached the warming rays of the sun finally conquered the
thick snow blanket that covered the landscape, and led by our foreman we
carefully searched the prairie, praying to be permitted to give at least
a human burial to his daughter's earthly remains, but it nearly wrecked
his mind when even this privilege was denied him, as we found not a
trace of the child.

Then, hoping to lighten somewhat the fearful burden of woe borne by her
parents, we placed those last mementos of her brief visit upon earth
into the little black coffin that we had constructed, and gave the
baby's garments a solemn burial alongside the mound of my partner,
Peoria Red, and above the new mound we erected the other white cross to
keep company with the first one, and tell its silent story to the
passengers who flew past aboard swift trains, that two pitiful tragedies
had been enacted at this lone section reservation within the short span
of a few months.




[Illustration: decorative symbol]